


Thursday

by ashamedbliss



Category: Muse
Genre: 7/7, 7/7 bombings, Bombs, Grief/Mourning, M/M, Panic Attacks, Presumed Dead, Terrorism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-11
Updated: 2014-07-11
Packaged: 2018-02-08 11:08:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,433
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1938624
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ashamedbliss/pseuds/ashamedbliss
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>"At 8:50 am, three bombs were detonated on board London Underground trains within fifty seconds of each other."</i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	Thursday

**Author's Note:**

> x-post from livejournal, original [here](http://ashamedbliss.livejournal.com/66912.html)

“You want a cup of tea?”  
  
Dominic lifted his head from the pillow, smiling lazily at Matthew. “You’re up far too early,” he laughed. “Sure, mate.”  
  
Matthew tutted, muttering to himself as he walked out of his bedroom and into the open kitchen/lounge of his flat. “Still call me mate after I fucked your brains out last night.”  
  
Dominic laughed, having padded out of the room after him. “I seem to recall it was the other way round,” he said, looping his arms around Matthew’s waist as he stood at the sink filling up the kettle. “And you weren’t complaining either,” Dominic continued, pressing a kiss to Matthew’s bare shoulder.  
  
“Fuck off,” Matthew said, but it was with a small smile. “Sort out the mugs and shit, I need to get dressed.”  
  
“Cheers, thanks for that cup of tea,” Dominic called as Matthew disappeared into his bedroom. “Where the fuck are you off to at this time of the morning again?”  
  
Matthew poked his head around the door, pulling on a pair of dark jeans. “Meeting with the management, just confirming studio spaces and shit for the next album.”  
  
“Fuck me, we only just finished touring,” Dominic said, finishing off the process of making the cups of tea. “I know this year wasn’t as heavy as last, but...”  
  
Matthew rubbed one of Dominic’s shoulders softly, now fully clothed, as he reached around his boyfriend for his cup of tea. “I know, Dom,” Matthew said, and their eyes yet. “It was a shit year, but a great year too. We made it. We headlined Glasto, and then everything that happened brought us together, didn’t it?” Matthew offered with a smile. Dominic placed his hand on Matthew’s gingerly. “And we’re going to fucking rock the end of this year, and then 2006, and then all the years after that. But first, I need to confirm the studios,” Matthew said, slurping on his tea. “Fuck, that’s hot.”  
  
“You just watched me pour it,” Dominic laughed, pulling his boxers up his hips a little before turning to lean against the counter, sipping at his own cup of tea. “Where abouts you meeting them?”  
  
Matthew laughed. “They want to do some brunch shit over in Covent Garden. Brunch, I mean...” Matthew sat up from where he was now tying his laces, Dominic raising an eyebrow at him. “I’m a fucking rock star, not someone who goes for brunch on a Thursday morning.”  
  
Dominic laughed as Matthew stood up, grabbing a jacket. “Doesn’t look too nice outside, does it?” he said, pulling a face at the window. “Might rain later, so much for summer. You taking the Northern line?”  
  
Matthew shook his head. “Nah, Piccadilly. Fucking hate Leicester Square this time of morning.”  
  
“As if Kings Cross is gonna be any better,” Dominic snorted, pulling Matthew close for a quick snog. “You didn’t finish your tea,” Dominic said, “after I so lovingly made you a cup.”  
  
Matthew laughed, patting Dominic on the chest with perhaps a bit more force than intended as he stepped away, heading towards the door. “You can make me a cup when I’m home then. You still good for the cinema this afternoon?”  
  
Dominic nodded. “Sure. Have fun,” he said, smiling at Matthew before turning back to the sink to rinse his cups.  
  
“Love you,” Matthew called from the doorway. Dominic smiled to himself.  
  
“Love you too,” he called back, but the door had already slammed and Matthew would’ve already been half way down the stairs. He wondered if he’d heard it.  
  
Dominic made himself some toast, not yet bothering to get dressed. He’d decided on maybe finally getting round to unpacking his suitcase from their gig in Paris five days ago, but the thought of it was making him turn his nose up. He’d only just finished unpacking from the month or so he’d spent down in Teignmouth for the anniversary of his father’s death. Matthew had joined him for a week of it, though, which he’d really appreciated. Even the thought of his boyfriend now put a smile on his face as he buttered his toast, sitting down at the breakfast bar and turning on the telly in the corner.  
  
Matthew had been his rock throughout the rest of the Absolution tour, as Dominic had only wanted to cancel one gig after Glastonbury. It’d unearthed a kind of emotional intimacy between them that had always existed through their friendship, but only came to the foreground as Dominic grieved in the quiet aftermath of each and every following tour date. Given how long they’d known each other, Dominic wasn’t surprised when Matthew soon became someone he couldn’t live without. The first time they properly shared a bed, not just fumbling with each other during the huge, hazy orgies of the previous tour, was the first time Dominic felt that he truly had a place to call home.  
  
Dominic watched some of the news, most of which was going on about how London had won the Olympic bid for 2012. He thought about how much his life had changed in just the last year, and wondered how it would change in the next seven. Would he still be with Matthew? He put that thought aside for the moment. He hoped so, at least. He was quite fond of him.  
  
Bored of the news, Dominic finally went into the bedroom to unpack his suitcase. He’d never officially moved in to Matthew’s flat, but it was in a nicer part of London than his own was and a bit bigger too. One day a few months ago he’d simply found himself being given a key, and that was that. They hadn’t had much time to make it homely as of late, as they’d spent the best part of April and May touring the US, and then Dominic had headed south to be with his family.  
  
Dominic’s phone buzzed on the bed. He reached for it with a smile.  
  
 _Changing lines at King’s X. We’re in the Metro because of some summer song thing lol. Love you x_  
  
Smiling, Dominic put his phone back on the bed. He found himself spending a fair bit of time sorting out his clothes in the wardrobe and in their shared drawers, knowing Matthew would get pissed off if he kept making a mess of their room. He smiled at the thought.  
  
Done with tidying up, Dominic pulled on a t-shirt before walking back into the kitchen, considering another piece of toast when the television caught his attention.  
  
“ _We’ve just had a report of a second explosion._ ”  
  
Dominic stopped what he was doing, squinting close to the television to read the ticking news.  _Explosions reported at Edgware Road. Possible power surge. Unknown number of victims._  
  
“ _The second explosion was on a train heading southbound from Kings Cross towards Russell Square on the Piccadilly line._ ”  
  
Dominic’s heart stopped. That was the line Matthew was meant to be taking.  
  
Dominic checked the clock. It was now quarter to ten; Matthew definitely should’ve been there by now. Panicking, Dominic reached for his phone, speed dialling his number and watching footage of ambulances and people swarming around on the television.  
  
“Please pick up,” Dominic whispered as the phone rang in his ear. “Please, come on, pick up.” The phone rang out and the calm voice of the answering machine replaced the dialling tone. “Come on!” Dominic shouted, slamming his phone back down on the worktop. He picked it up instantly after, finding the time stamp on the text he’d been sent by Matthew as he’d changed lines. The estimated time they were giving for the explosion was only a few minutes after the text.  
  
“Fuck.”  
  
The BBC coverage was annoying him, and so Dominic flicked over to Sky News, which seemed to be talking about bombs instead of explosions.  
  
“Jesus Christ, Matt,” Dominic said, his chest feeling tight. “It’s okay. He’s at brunch already. He was early.” His mind working in overdrive, Dominic called their manager, the one he presumed Matthew would be with today, but the line was busy. He felt helpless, the same kind of helplessness he had felt when he’d been told that his father had died.  
  
 _No_.  
  
His phone rang, and Dominic jumped, picking it up in a second. “Matthew?!” he asked quickly.  
  
“Dom,” a voice that was very much not Matthew’s replied. “Have you seen him? He didn’t arrive for brunch, now I’m hearing about Tube problems...” their manager said. Dominic shut his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose.  _This isn’t happening_. “I tried ringing him but I got no answer. Have you heard from him?”  
  
“No,” Dominic said as calmly as he could, even though he felt like he was breaking inside. “He was meant to be... I don’t know, I’m sorry.” Dominic hung up his phone, nearly ready to throw it across the room in anger, in frustration, in utter helplessness. He turned back to the television. A man walked past, covered head to toe in blood, the shaky mobile phone footage managing to capture the look on his face.  
  
“ _There can’t be anyone alive down there,_ ” he said, before the images cut back to the studio sharply and the presenters reassured Dominic that, once again, they couldn’t confirm anything.  
  
Dominic ran the numbers over and over in his head. Matthew would’ve been on that train. He exhaled, his lungs shuddering. He sprinted to the bedroom, pulling on jeans and grabbing a hoodie, stuffing his feet into shoes. He couldn’t sit and wait to find out that the person who had put him together was now dead.  
  
Matthew had to be alive, because if he was dead, then Dominic was too.  
  
Dominic threw the door open, not even bothering to switch off the television as he sprinted down the stairs to street level. He emerged into the eerie stillness of their road, able to hear the wailing of sirens in the distance, the discord ringing in his ears and making him feel hollow. He began jogging down the road, not particularly caring for the looks he was given as he vaguely made his way towards Kings Cross, cursing himself for relying on the tube too much as he found himself feeling lost.  
  
A helicopter zoomed overhead and Dominic followed it, a stream of ambulances screaming past him on the wrong side of the road. Finally, the station came into view, a mass of bloody people and high visibility jackets swarming outside the building. Dominic ran up to the police tape, already babbling before he was held in the grip of a tall policeman.  
  
“My boyfriend, my boyfriend was on that train, he was on that-- let me  _go_!” he shouted, wrenching out of the man’s grip. The policeman looks at him and Dominic realises that neither of them have an absolute clue what is happening.  
  
“Everyone who was on the train has been evacuated,” the policeman said, Dominic turning and putting his hands on his head, scanning the empty road behind him. He turned around once more, and the policeman had his finger to his ear, listening to his radio. “I can’t let you in. Most walking wounded have now left. Have you tried ringing him?”  
  
Dominic nodded, feeling the world slipping away from him at an alarming rate. “It rang out,” he said, swallowing dryly. The policeman paled.  
  
“What did you say his name was?” he asked. Dominic told him, and the policeman excused himself to go check the list being compiled.   
  
Before he realised it, Dominic was kneeling on the floor, his knees having given out under him. He gripped his hair tight in his hands, leaning forward over himself as he struggled to suck in air, tears beginning to roll down his cheeks. “Matt,” he sobbed, his ears ringing as his head touched the tarmac below him, stomach in knots. “You can’t be,” he cried, vaguely aware of someone touching his arms, trying to pull him off the ground.   
  
“He’s dead!” Dominic shouted, whipping his head around to scream at the paramedic on his arms. “Why didn’t you save him!” he screamed. He wiped at the tears on his face with one clumsy arm, now on his feet and wrenching away from the paramedic with the other. Bile rose in his throat and he felt as if he was going to be sick. “Matt,” he croaked, stumbling and about to fall to the ground, dizzy, until the paramedic caught him, helping him up again.  
  
“What’s your name?” a female voice said. Dominic felt spent and didn’t even try to pull away again.  
  
“Dom,” he simply said. The paramedic had brown hair, maybe a shade lighter than Matthew’s. She guided him towards an ambulance, a streak of yellow amongst the grey street and grey people.  
  
“Alright, Dom. We’re going to sit you down for a bit, okay?” she said, helping him up the steps to sit down in the seat. He instantly slumped forward, tears still running down his face. “We’re going to calm you down a bit.”  
  
“I’ve just lost the most important man in my life,” Dominic mumbled into his palms, his chest feeling hollow as he tried to remember how to breathe. “I can’t,” he admitted, broken and defeated.  
  
“Sweetheart, you don’t know that,” the paramedic said. “You just had a panic attack, but it’s okay because we’re going to--”  
  
“It’s  _not_  fucking okay!” Dominic shouted, stamping one foot hard against the floor of the ambulance. He saw the horror flash across her face, and realised that Matthew would’ve teased him for being a baby. He slumped down once more and began to cry again, dry sobs shuddering through his body.  
  
“You’ve had no confirmation,” she continued, and Dominic wished she wouldn’t. The only person he wanted to be with right now was Matthew. Matthew had always known what to do when Dominic cried. “You’ve got to be hopeful.”  
  
Dominic focussed on breathing in and out, because he didn’t trust himself to speak.  
  
“I’ll go speak to people, check lists. You stay here, don’t move, alright?”  
  
Dominic nodded at her and she hopped out of the ambulance. Wiping his eyes, Dominic looked up at the crowd before him. He saw a team of fire fighters carrying out a body bag on a stretcher, and he wondered if that was Matthew, right there, the love of his life reduced to decimated corpse. He hoped they would find all of the pieces of him, at least. That would give him some kind of comfort.  
  
A few minutes later, and someone finally turned off the sirens of one of the fire engines that had been waiting. The silence rang in his ears, even though there were hundreds of people before him, all talking at once. He thought he saw someone being resuscitated, but he averted his eyes. An elderly woman was embracing a younger man, and Dominic’s heart skipped for a moment when he thought it was Matthew, even though he knew it was impossible. He realised that the woman had blood running down her face.  
  
Along the far end of the street, police tape was rolled out, only for it to be taken down ten minutes later when an ambulance left. Dominic noted that the sirens weren’t on. He saw people taking photos with professional cameras, and vehicles come and go. A man was approached by two officers, his hopeful glance being replaced by a face of utter despair.  
  
For the second time in Dominic’s life, he knew how it felt to be that man.  
  
The paramedic returned after about an hour, according to her, although for Dominic it had been one never-ending moment. He felt like he was in a dream. He hoped he would wake up soon, because he didn’t particularly like it. He would wake up and roll over in Matthew’s arms, and they would whisper good morning to each other and bicker about who would make the first cup of tea. Dominic would tell Matthew that he loved him, because he now realised he’d never told him enough.  
  
“Dom? Were you listening?”  
  
“I’m...” Dominic looked up at her and gestured. He had no idea.  
  
“All the carriages are now empty, apparently. Station entirely evacuated. He’s not on the list of the deceased, so I don’t know where he is.”  
  
Dominic swallowed, but said nothing. He couldn’t get his hopes up, now, just for them to be shot down again. What if Matthew had tried to escape, but fallen onto the lines? Maybe he’d been taken to hospital, and wasn’t going to make it? What if...  
  
“I’m scared,” Dominic mumbled. “I want him back.”  
  
His chest felt hollow as he was left alone again, the paramedic tending to various small wounds in Dominic’s line of sight. He thought about how empty the flat would be without Matthew. He would have to sell all his things. He didn’t even want to think about the band. Muse and Matthew had been the two things that had kept him together after his father’s death; he could hardly cope without one of them, but if he lost both, Dominic wasn’t sure he would survive.  
  
Dominic felt hope rise in him like bile in his throat, and he instantly swallowed it back down. Matthew couldn’t be alive. He would’ve called, he would’ve let him know, he would’ve done  _something_.  
  
“There’ve been other bombs,” the paramedic said, packing things into her bag. “Well, explosions. But they think it’s bombs. I’ve got to go,” she said to Dominic, placing a hand against his arm. He hardly felt it. “Be brave, it’ll be okay,” she said.  
  
Numbly, Dominic stepped out of the ambulance, surveying the scene around him. He felt useless, helpless. He stood in the centre of the chaos and destruction, the world spinning on around him but he was suspended, unable to say a word or do anything. Dominic felt as if he was collapsing in on himself, full of grief for too many people.  
  
He wondered for a moment if he would have another panic attack, but he felt too numb for that. It was almost serene, the calmness he felt in that moment. He felt as if maybe he had a chance without Matthew, but as soon as he thought of that, his chest tightened and his vision blurred.  
  
Someone was approaching him, but Dominic didn’t have the energy to blink the tears from his eyes. The policeman would tell him to go home, to mourn in privacy. “No,” he whispered, before a tear fell from his eyes and his vision cleared a little.  
  
The face looked familiar.  
  
“Dom?”  
  
The voice was nearly the same. It sounded too choked up to be him. Dominic wondered if it was his brother. He might’ve heard the news of Matthew’s death first.  
  
“Dom, it’s me.”  
  
Dominic blinked the tears from his eyes, not believing what he saw. Matthew stood before him, a dribble of blood dried on the side of his face, a bandage just above his left eyebrow. He’d been crying, but his wobbling lips attempted a smile. “I’m so sorry,” he whispered.  
  
Eyebrows knit together, Dominic’s trembling hand reached for Matthew’s cheek, cupping it gently. “Matt,” he whispered, as if his name was a prayer and his body was a church. He repeated it because he couldn’t believe he was saying it to the man it belonged to. Matthew’s lips twitched up a little at the sound, glassy eyes blinking away tears.  
  
Dominic pulled Matthew into a hug, burying his face in the other man’s neck. “I thought you were gone,” he sobbed, this time with relief. “I was so scared, I love you so much, I love you.”  
  
“I dropped my phone somewhere when we were evacuated,” Matthew said, holding Dominic tight, practically clinging onto him. “I heard it explode, and I tried to remember if I told you that I loved you this morning.”  
  
Dominic gripped him tighter, as tight as he could without seriously hurting his boyfriend. “You did,” Dominic whispered, daring to laugh now that the grief and adrenalin had been replaced with endorphins. “You did, I love you so much,” he whispered again, finally pulling back to look at Matthew’s face again, stroking his cheek and trying to remind himself that this human being was alive, and  _his_. He kissed him, delicately as if he might break, but firmly enough to make sure he didn’t disappear into thin air.  
  
Matthew smiled at him as they parted, taking Dominic’s hand. “Come on. You still owe me that cup of tea, right?”


End file.
